


She Has A Secret Part 2

by KMac



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, US Women's Soccer National Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMac/pseuds/KMac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amanda is a CIA operative. On assignment, she meets Ali Krieger. Ali, recently broken up with Ashlyn, takes interest but Amanda disappears before Ali can make a move. Amanda, however, reappears back in Washington D.C., just when Ali desperately needs her help. Ali is then torn between Ashlyn who wants her back and Amanda who is trying to save her now adopted daughter, Emma.</p><p>This is a sequel to She Has a Secret. Emma is 16 and will come up against something that no one expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May 11: Amanda

AMANDA's POV

I carefully swirl the olive around my martini glass so that the olive juice and vodka nearly make a whirlpool in my glass. Moments later, I pluck it out via toothpick. 

"What you say you fineesh up zat drink and den ve goes back to my house?" My target, a political advisor for the Russian Embassy whom we suspect of selling high dollar secrets to the Chinese government, watches me seductively lick the olive. 

"Lexi, you know I have to open the flower shop early tomorrow." I lightly remind him as I pop the olive into my mouth. 

"Forget ze flower shop. Quit." He says, grabbing my hand. "I take good care of you. Look, I buy you Harry Vinston." 

My other hand flutters up to the delicate forget-me-not necklace draped around my neck then to the large yellow diamond ring on my middle finger. 

"Dinner tomorrow night?" I suggest instead, dropping my hand down to his thigh. "There is a new restaurant opening up around 15th street that everyone is raving about." 

"Of course. Ve do dinner tomorrow night." His face visibly softens as he cups my hand into his hand. "And...your aunt...she depend on you to take care of her flower shop. We spend night at my house another night." The "Aunt" he is referring to is my "Aunt Jenny"-a retired CIA target analyst who went into the florist business upon retirement. It's not a terrible gig as far as fake jobs go. 

"You're so understanding, Lexi," I lean over and lightly kiss him on the cheek. It's more stubbly than usual. And it smells heavily of cigar smoke. I do my best not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. "It's getting quite late. Will you drive me home?" 

"Ya, of course, of course!," He slaps a $300 tip on the table, a gesture that he is hoping will impress me, and stands up. 

"You are such a generous man!," I coo, standing up as well. 

"Anything for you, my love." He extends his arm. "Did you enjoy ze dinner?" 

I quickly nod, accepting his arm. This was the fourth high dollar dinner he has bought for me this week. If it weren't for him, my diet would primarily consist of cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, and frozen pizza. 

"I vas thinking...." he says as we step outside the Georgetown restaurant and into the cool night air. "Let's go away for long weekend? Not Labor Day...ahhh....end of May weekend?" 

"Memorial Day?" I offer. 

"Ya! Memorial Day." His eyes light up. "What you say? We go anywhere you vant!" 

Before I can answer a younger man in a Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt brushes past us. As he passes, a small piece of paper finds itself inside my right coat pocket. 

"Pittsburgh Steelers!" Lexi scoffs aloud as the man continues down the street. "Dats no football team! Dallas Cowboys...now dat...dat is a football team!' 

I giggle as I carefully button up my pocket. "Pittsburgh Steelers are for pansies!" 

Lexi's eyes crinkle up slightly. "I don't know what panzy means but yes....Pittsburgh is for panzies!" 

We both burst out laughing as we amble along. .......................................................................................................................................................................................................

Lexi drops me off at my nondescript townhouse in Alexandria. What he doesn't know-what people outside the proper CIA circles don't know-is that my entire complex is CIA funded. Three legitimate companies have been set up-a law firm, a real estate investment firm, a CPA firm-with non-CIA professionals handling all the transactions. Said professionals think that they are providing legal advice, tax advice, investment advice to a handful of wealthy Washingtonians but instead are doing work for CIA employees working under fake identities. 

The people in my complex are officers that work in the field. We have operations officers who spend most of their time overseas. They can just come back to the complex and never have to explain to nosy neighbors where they've been the last 4 months. We have a handful of collection managers who also spend a good amount of time overseas. We have targeting officers-me-who try to infiltrate our way into groups that are potentially a threat to national security or are a threat to another country-like a Russian political advisor who we think is selling information to China. We also have a couple of language officers floating around as some of those guys float in and out of the States. 

As far as the people who maintain the property-maintenance folks and the like-they all have top secret clearances with polygraphs. Sounds over the top but the CIA doesn't want to pour a bunch of money into training us, only to risk having our cover blown by someone like a nosy maintenance person who asks to many questions.

After waving goodbye to Lexi, I slip into my dark townhouse. A familiar wet nose immediately greets me.

"Hey Ollie!" I bend down to pet my 8 year old cat-a small tabby who had decided to make my front porch home about 7 1/2 years ago. After months of feeding him via tiny bowl every few days, I finally relented and brought him inside. We have been BFFs ever since. Course that isn't saying much since I really have no life out of work.

I wander into my bedroom, yank off my Jimmy Choos (also a gift from Lexi) and pull the small note out of my right pocket. It reads like a to-do list: pick up dry cleaning; re-schedule dental appointment for 11:00; go to the gym; buy a gallon of milk.

"My work is never done, Ollie." I sigh as I throw the list on my bed. 

........................................................................................................................................................................................................

At exactly 11:00 P.M., I make my way to the building's gym, a fairly large space next to the complex's dry cleaner. When I arrive, I only see two people working out: an Asian girl whom I believe to be a Korean interpreter, furiously spinning on a bicycle, and a fit, clean cut guy in his 30's wearing a Miami Dolphin t-shirt, running on the treadmill. A very conspicuous Pittsburgh sweatshirt lies on the floor. I chose to step on the treadmill next to him.

"You might want to kick that up into full gear," clean cut guy says to me. "I've seen all the meals that you've eaten this week."

"Shut-up, John," I scowl as I step unto the sides of the treadmill. 

"Ah, you know I'm joking, Manda Panda," he haphazardly reaches out and pokes me in the rib.

"You better be. I'm getting kinda tired of making out with a middle-aged Russian dude who smells like cigars and sweat," I lament.

John's eyes crinkle up into a smile. He clearly finds all of this funny. Funny for him, I'm sure, because he has been safely behind a desk for most of this ungodly long assignment.

"By the way," I push the start button on the treadmill. "Lexi thinks the Pittsburgh Steelers are crap. You should've worn your Dolphin shirt instead." I point to his swearshirt lying on the ground.

"They are a shit team. I'm really a Dallas fan." John shrugs as he continues to run. "I only have that stupid sweatshirt because of an old girlfriend." 

"So........" I begin to jog as well. "You summoned me here for a non-football reason. What's up?" Normally I don't mind his ex-girlfriend stories but tonight I'm too tired to listen. 

"Mary intercepted a very interesting exchange between Lexi and Lexi's Chinese friends this morning," John brings his run down to a jog. "There's going to be a drop-off at Rock Creek park tomorrow morning around 6:30."

"Really?" I continue to jog nonchalantly. Drop-offs are nothing out of the ordinary. Analysts like Mary intercept them at least once every two weeks. Nothing so far has given us solid proof that Lexi is selling Russian secrets to the Chinese. "And this warranted a late night rendezvous with you? I was planning on taking a hot bath tonight. Maybe even reading one page of a book."

"This one is different. You're gonna love this, Manda." John stops altogether to look at me. "Mary, along with three other analysts, believe that Lexi knows where the two missing nukes are. The ones that the UN hasn't been able to find and the ones that we suspect will be used on a few former satellite countries. They all seem to think that he is going to pass on this information to someone in the Chinese government who is either interested in buying them or stealing them. We haven't put that piece of the puzzle together yet but either way it's not a good situation."

I also stop. "So....you think this information is going to be passed off tomorrow?"

"Yep." John nods.

"Which means.....if he knows the location of the nukes then someone at the embassy knows."

"Uh-huh." John wipes off a bead of sweat with the back of his hand.

"Is it the ambassador himself?" I wonder aloud.

"Possibly."

"Whoa." I let out a low whistle. "That will make headlines for sure. So what's the plan?" 

"There will be about six of us at the park tomorrow. Three around the drop-off zone, three that will be ready to trail him. If we intercept him too soon, he might disappear, so we are going to have the team analyze before making a move." 

I nod in agreement. "What can I do?" 

"Follow the routine but be on standby for further instructions. We are going to try to keep this from becoming a very public international disaster."


	2. May 12: The Man In China

Mike calmly flips of his desk light. Normally he wouldn't leave the office before 8:00 but today was an exception. 

"See you tomorrow, Biyu," he calls out to his secretary, a tiny Chinese women with sub-par English skills. 

"Oh, see you tomorrow, Mr. Mike!," she calls out as he disappears through a set of doors. 

Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator, he takes two stairs at a time.

"What's the hurry, Mike?," John, one of the GMS for Chain Management and Operations, calls out as he hurries past the large factory area of the building. 

"I have a date!," Mike smiles broadly but does not stop. 

"A date?" John looks surprised. Mike has worked at Boeing nearly 4 years and not once has anyone seen him with a woman. In fact, there was a bet going around amongst the management that maybe men was more his thing. 

"She's gorgeous so we'll see what happens!" Mike waves as he hurries down the hall, towards the entrance. 

"Wait until I tell the guys about this," John mutters to himself.

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
One crowded bus ride later and Mike is back at his sprawling apartment in Tianjin, a city of about 15 million people on the Hai River. He looks at his watch. 6:15. The phone call confirming the drop should be coming in around 6:45. He quickly decides that he is too antsy to do anything else, so he settles at his desk. To his right is a model of a Boeing 787 Dreamliner-his company's plane. To his left is a picture of his nieces and nephew. He has been told by the few people that have been invited to his apartment that they bear an eerie resemblance to him. He always laughs it off as weird genetics. Dead center is a laptop and a burner cellphone. Cellphone shops are on practically every corner so it was easy for him to get one. Ironically enough the desk is his most cluttered possession. Everything else in the apartment is contemporary, barren and neat-almost like a flat one would find in Scandinavia. Of course, his intent was never to have a Scandinavian inspired flat but one that he could leave in a hurry.  
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
The call doesn't come in at 6:45 as expected. A half hour ticks by then a hour. He doesn't think much of it until the second hour passes. Fuck. What went wrong?


	3. May 12: The Lawyer

She leaves her spacious condo in Bethesda at 5:00 AM. There usually isn’t a copious amount of traffic this time of day but she can’t afford any delays. One, she has to be in the office for a deposition at nine. Two, her instructions to be at Rock Creek Park by 6:15 are non-negotiable. If she isn’t there in time, her loyalty and possibly her desire to return back to her homeland, will be heavily questioned.

......................................... ....................................... ....................................... ........  
Rock Creek Park is shaped like a feather. At the bottom of the feather is the Klingle Mansion and at the top part is a small bridge called Boundary Bridge. In between are lots of wooded running trails for the active. 

She parks at the closest point to Valley Trail-a 5 mi dirt trail full of steep elevation changes. It doesn’t matter if anyone notices her parking because she looks like the average D.C workaholic squeezing in a run before the long workday. Besides, no one in their right mind would suspect her-a slim, attractive blond-of coming to the park for less than honorable reasons anyway.

She gets out and makes her way to the trail. When she finds it, she begins to lightly jog. Truth be told, she absolutely despises running. Running, in her opinion,was for bored American housewives who liked to post their running accomplishments on Facebook.

At 6:15 she makes her way down to where Valley Trails intersects with the Meadowlink Trail. She turns down Meadowlink and begins to slow her pace. In about fifteen minutes he would be arriving and she needed to time their encounter perfectly.

With a steady hand, she reaches inside the pockets of her jacket and slips on a pair of gloves. Once they are firmly on, she pulls a small pistol out from inside her bra.

......................................................... .........................................................................  
6:30 comes and goes without any sign of him. The drop off time had been confirmed at 11:00 PM the previous evening so she knows there was no mistaking the location. She can now only assume that someone tipped him off between then and now.  
....................................... ....................................... ....................................... .........  
By 8:00 AM she has no choice but to leave Rock Creek Park. Once in her car, a few miles down the road, she makes a dreaded call to the ambassador via prepaid cellphone.

“Hallo?”

“On nikogda ne prikhodil,” she tells him.

“That son of bitch!,” he screams in English.


	4. May 12: Ali and Emma

Ali's alarm goes off at 7:00 AM. Before jumping into the shower, she pokes her head into Emma's room. As always, Emma is dressed, ready for school-even though it doesn't start for another 2 hours. 

"Hey, love." Ali says fondly. 

"Morning, mom." Emma smiles as she stuffs her Algebra book into a nearby backpack. 

Hearing Emma call her 'mom' always makes her heart surge with warmth. Perhaps it’s because it took two years for Emma to say it. Up until that point she had always called her ‘Ali’. It wasn’t until a certified letter arrived, imforming them that Emma’s biological mother had relinquished parental rights, that Emma began to call her ‘mom.’

"What do you have going on after school?"

"I'm going to go running with Jess then I need to come home and study for my history exam." Emma smoothes back a strand of hair that has escaped from her ponytail. "You have any plans tonight?"

Ali shakes her head. Her social life has been fairly bleak lately. And it's partially her fault. Ever since the breakup with Ashlyn, she has felt weird hanging out with their mutual friends, particularly Sydney and Dom. 

"Mom, you can't isolate everyone." Emma says gently. "Sydney, Dom, the girls from the team...they all still love you even though you guys aren't together anymore."

Ali blinks back a few tears. She knows Emma is right but it's just too hard. And what Emma doesn't know is that she is simply buying time in Orlando. Come fall, she and Emma will be moving back to D.C. A T.V. station has already offered her a broadcasting job with the option of flexible hours in the soccer season. It's an offer she can't refuse. And if she can’t negotiate a trade with Washington Spirit then she was okay with hanging up her cleats for good.

"I'm sorry," Emma quickly says. "I don't mean to upset you. I just hate seeing you so sad."

"I know." Ali reaches over and gives her a hug. Emma, still very petite for her age, tucks her head under Ali's chin.

"What do you say that I make us dinner tonight?," Ali says into Emma's hair. "And by that I mean takeout from Beijing Dynasty."

Emma laughs as she pulls away. "Sounds good. Now go get in the shower, you stink!" 

"Hey!," Ali playfully swats at her arm. 

........................................................................................................................................................................................................

Ali arrives in time for the team breakfast.

“Hey Kriegs,” Sydney sets down her plate of egg whites and plops beside Ali.

“Hey,” Ali forces s smile.

“We missed you at Alana’s cookout the other night,” Sydney says nonchalantly, knowing full well that Ali is going to use the I-wasn’t-feeling-it excuse.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” Ali says.

Sydney takes a deep breath. Ali and Ashlyn's break-up has been a real strain on everyone. It's not that either one has been forcing anyone chose sides-quite the opposite actually-it's just the overall awkwardness. Whenever Ashlyn walks into a room, Ali exits it. Whenever Sydney says Ali's name, Ashlyn shuts her down, changes the subject. At some point it was all going to come to a head and someone was going to say something to the two of them. “Why don’t you come to our house for dinner tomorrow night. You and Emma, no one else,” Sydney offers, her voice wavering slightly. “Cassius hasn’t seen you in over a month and he really misses you. WE miss you.”

Dammit. She knows Cassius is her weak spot.

“Okay,” Ali says reluctantly.

“Good.” Sydney gives her shoulders an impromptu squeeze.

Ashlyn, sitting at the opposite end of the table, catches the small exchange between Ali and Sydney. A few months ago all three of them would’ve been sitting together, cracking ridiculous jokes. Now Sydney is forced, all of the players are forced, to sit with one or the other. Ashlyn fervently wishes things were different but Ali has made it pretty clear that she was done with her. Ashlyn suddenly has no appetite. “I’ll see you guys on the field,” she says to Marta and Alex. Before any of them can protest, she gets up sans her breakfast plate, and leaves. 

Ali, of course, notices this but doesn’t go after her. She was, frankly, tired of running after Ashlyn.


	5. May 12: Amanda

My boss, Scott, pays me a visit at the flower shop shortly before five. I don't, however, acknowledge his presence until a gentleman who is proposing to his girlfriend hands me his credit card. 

"Be right with you, Sir," I call to Scott as I swipe the card.

"These look great.... thanks for your help," the gentleman says as I simultaneously hand him the bouquet and his receipt.

"She is going to love them," I smile. "Good luck tonight and congratulations!"

He gives me a wave as he turns on his heels to leave. 

"Yes, sir, what can I help you with?," I finally say to Scott-primarily for the benefit of an elderly lady who has been contemplating buying an African violet for the last 15 minutes. 

"Well, it's our anniversary tonight and I am looking for something very special for my wife," he says casually. 

I resist the urge to giggle. Scott is the ultimate playboy. Nearly 50 years old with Tom Selleck good looks, he has managed to keep a car around longer than a lady. 

"Hmmmmm." I feign a thoughtful face. "What is her personality like? Is she quiet, is she outgoing?"

"She's very outgoing and....."

"Your prices are too expensive here!" The old lady puts down the African violet in disgust. "I used to be able to buy these for $2.00." 

"I'm sorry, m'am?" What else am I going to say, 'Sorry the last time you bought an African violet was in the 1970's?' 

She throws me a dirty look before shuffling out the door.

"Well, that was awkward." I blow out a sigh. "I can't say I have ever seen a person molest an African violet like that."

Scott smiles slightly. A small smile here and there is all anyone manages to get out of him. He's a former spec forces guy who doesn't have time for idle chit chat or humor or antidotes-except, of course, when he is trying to seduce a woman. 

"Anyone else here?," he mouths.

"No. Just Jenny in the back." 

"Good, let's take a walk around the store and you can show me what flowers I need to buy for my date tonight."

"Ooooooh....is this a first or second date?" I move out from behind the cash register. 

"Third."

"Wow! Impressive." I let out a low whistle. "You may as well start ring shopping."

"Can it, A." He is the only one on the team that calls me "A". Most call me "Manda" or "Panda" or "MandaPanda." 

"So, this is obviously not a social call." I say as we wander towards a large floral refrigerator. "What's going on?"

"No it's not." Scott looks over his shoulder one more time. "Lexi has gone off the radar."

It takes a moment for me to process this. 

"What kind of disappearing are we talking about?," I finally say. "Did someone ambush him from the drop-off spot or did he never show up this morning?"

"Never showed up." Scott says, pointing to a colorful bouquet of Gerber Daisies sitting in a large bucket. "Those will work."

"Did he show up at work?," I open the fridge and promptly pluck the flowers out." 

"No."

"When was the last time anyone saw him?"

"We had four of our guys on his residence all day yesterday. They report that he got home at 20:30, right after he dropped you off. He drove his car into the garage, turned on a few downstairs lights, poured himself a glass of something, shut off the lights downstairs, goes upstairs, read until midnight, lights go out." Scott follows me to a table filled with different types of floral paper. 

""Any texts or calls received between the time he left me until the time he went to bed?," I gently lay the daisies out on the table as I scrummage for the large roll of tape we use to wrap the bottom of bouquets. 

""Ft. Meade is working on that right now but as of 16:00 today they had nothing." 

""Have we ruled out him getting hit?," I ready a hunk of tape for wrapping. 

""Yep. Chris and Ron arrived at his door to deliver the word of God around noon." Scott watches me skillfully wrap the bottom of the daisies so that they form a nice bouquet. "He didn't answer the door, so they slipped in and did a thorough sweep of the place. No sign of struggle...no dead body....no blood...no nothing. Just an unmade bed." 

""Did they go Jehovah or Mormon missionary this time?" I always like to ask this question because Chris and John, two other officers, like to mix it up a little. Sometimes they are Jehovah Witnesses trying to spread the good word, sometimes they are Mormon missionaries complete with nametags and bike helmets. I even heard a rumor that they once posed as Buddhist monks to get into a target's house. 

""Does it really matter, A?," Scott doesn't even try to mask the stress in his voice. "These nukes have been lost for four fucking years. Lexi is the closest we've gotten to finding them. For all we know that mother fucker is already in Beijing eating a big fucking plate of wontons." 

"He's not entirely wrong. 

""Want me to text him and see if I can get something out of him? We were supposed to do dinner tonight." 

""Nope," Scott shakes his head as I cut a long square of plain brown floral paper. "He left his cellphone on the kitchen counter. All the data has been wiped from it." 

""So what are we doing next?" 

""For starters, your ass is on a plane to Orlando at 08:00 tomorrow." 

""Orlando? You think Lexi needed a pair of Mickey Mouse ears?," I carefully place the bouquet in the center of the paper. 

""Something like that," Scott's enthusiasm for my sense of humor is dwindling by the second. 

""Care to elaborate?" 

"As of 10:00 tomorrow, you're Orlando Pride's new life coach." Scott finally breaks into a smile as he pulls out a large book that reads: Idiots Guide to Life Coaching.

""What the hell is a life coach? And who is the Orlando Pride?" I am suddenly feeling very unenthusiastic about this new assignment. 

""I don't know what the hell life coaching is hence the book." Scott sets it down on the table. "Orlando Pride, however, is a professional women's soccer club." "

"Not seeing the connection here, Scott." I stop wrapping the flowers long enough to give him an incredulous look. "What does a women's soccer club have to do with Lexi and two missing nukes?" 

""All you need to know for now is that your target is Ali Krieger and her daughter, Emma." Scott says firmly. "You are to get cozy with her and wait for further instructions." He promptly pulls out a file from underneath his suit coat. "Everything that you need to know on them is here." 

"Cryptic but the story of my life. 

""Well.....I have always wanted to go to Disneyworld," I stick a bow around the middle of the arrangement. 

""It's a small world, you should be able to find your way there with no problem." Scott cracks a smile at his own pun. 

""Do me a favor..." I thrust the bouquet at him. 

""What?" 

""Don't attempt humor on this date," I say with a serious expression. "It really doesn't suit you." 

"Scott promptly smacks me with my carefully crafted work.


	6. Welcome to Orlando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The possibility of Ashlyn or Ali dating other people has raised hackles but if you stick with the story, I think you will be pleasantly surprised that true love always prevails. :-)

AMANDA's POV

I arrive about a hour before my flight-enough time to grab a cup of coffee and a donut. Just as I am settling down in a seat next to the gate agent, my phone rings. 

"Hello?" I cradle the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can rearrange myself. 

"Hey babe, it's me." 

My heart stops. It's been 2 months, 3 days since I have heard his voice. 

"Robbie!" I practically squeal, nearly spilling coffee in my lap. 

"I was hoping you would be more excited to hear from me, " he teases. 

"So you think I stand around waiting for your phone call?, " I tease back. 

"Listen, I don't have much time to talk because I am still in the field," he pauses. "But I'm coming home." 

"When?!"

"You know better then to ask that question over an unsecured line," he laughs. 

"You're right." I smile into the phone. "Whenever it is, I can't wait to see you."

"Honey, I gotta go because the reception is about to get bad." He says. "I love you." 

"I love you too." 

He clicks off. 

"Sounds like you just got a nice surprise." The middle-aged man sitting next to me, lowers his newspapers and smiles at me. 

"Um....." I am admittedly caught off-guard. "Yes, I did actually. My fiancée is in the military so we don't get to talk much on the phone. We email, of course, but never get to actually talk talk...."my voice trails off. Maybe the guy wasn't bargaining on an entire rundown of our relationship 

"What branch of the military is he in?," he asks kindly. 

"Army."

"Is he overseas now?"

"No he's stateside." I lie. HIs unit is actually working with a Pakistani special ops group along the Afghan border. The only reason I know this is because I have the same clearance as Robbie and one of my good analyst friends in McLean fills me in on their whereabouts.

"Well, tell him that I said thanks for his service." He smiles and I notice for the first time that he is very attractive-dark hair with a few silver strands running through the sides, light blue eyes, perfectly symmetrical face. He rather looks like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad. 

"Oh thank you, I will." I say, taking a sip of coffee. "So, are you headed for Orlando or somewhere else?" Normally I am not the type to engage in stranger chit chat but the man was so nice. 

"Orlando for business," he folds his newspaper and lays it in his lap. "I work for Boeing and we just got a large contract to service the Super Hornet. I work in China but was pulled off my project to oversee some product support."

"Great." I know Super Hornets are a type of military aircraft but I have no idea which branch of the military it supports. "How long will you be Orlando?"

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Until the job is done."

........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Florida heat hits my face the second I get outside the airport. 

"And I thought D.C. sucked in the summer,"I mutter to myself as I look around for a cab. 

"Hey! Where are you headed?" Suddenly, the man I was talking to at Dulles, is standing beside me. 

"The Marriot downtown?," I say a little hesitantly. Was he hitting on me? Hoping that I would go back to his hotel or something?

"Want to share a cab? I am headed downtown as well." He notices the apprehension in my face. "By the way....cab share is all it is.... I know you're a taken women."

"Um....," I pause as I think. He's most likely harmless. And if he isn't then my ten years of krav maga training will come in handy

"My name is Mike by the way," he extends his hand.

"Amanda." 

Five minutes later, we are in a cab headed downtown. 

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Amanda is dropped off first. Mike waves goodbye to her then instructs the cab driver to drop him off at the Aloft just a few blocks away. While enroute, he dials a Northern Virginia number via prepaid cellphone. Scott immediately answers. 

"Hi old friend," Mike greets. 

"It's good to hear your voice after so much time," Scott says sincerely. 

"Likewise." Mike glances up at the cab driver, making sure he is careful not to speak so loudly. "Amanda made it here safely."

"Good." Scott lowers his voice so not to be overheard by the cab driver. "She's one of our best so make sure you keep your distance from her or she is going to start putting pieces together. And we need to figure out how much shit we're in before divulging more."

"Of course," Mike casually agrees. "Anyway, I'm almost to the hotel so I am going to shove off. But let's catch up soon. Maybe when I'm in your neck of the words we can have dinner?"

"Sounds good, buddy." 

"Okay. Talk soon." He flips off the phone and slips it into his pant's pocket.  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................


	7. Emma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in law school so I had to take a break. Had a little time, however, to add to Chapter 7. :)

EMMA's POV

School has been a bit of a struggle since my head injury four years ago. I no longer stutter-thanks to OT-but remembering things is sometimes hard. I have had to get tutors in history, science, and English because I have a hard time remembering facts. Socially I am doing okay. Moving to Florida has been a little adjustment because I have had to make all new friends but Mom made sure I was in a good soccer club and is always willing to have my friends over.

Florida is nice but it still doesn't feel like home. I miss William who now works as a legislative assistant for a Virginia U.S. Senator. I REALLY miss Jane who moved to D.C. to be closer to all of us. We weren't really close before all of this happened but now we FaceTime at least three times a week.

Of course I don't miss my biological mother. Once she gave up her parent rights through a certified letter, I knew that I would probably never see her again. Which is something that I have finally accepted. My Grandad did tell me a few months ago that she moved out of our old house in McLean and is living somewhere in Maryland. No one really knows where. Once everything went to crap-dad dying, the FBI investigation, me going to live with Ashlyn and Mom-she cut everyone off. Even my Aunt Caroline who she was close to.

The only family that William, Jane, and I talk to now is our Grandad, Mimi (our dad's mom), Aunt Caroline, and a few cousins. Dad's only brother died before I was born so I never knew him and two of our grandparents are also dead.

It doesn't really bother me that I don't have the "traditional" family that most kids that I grew up with in McLean have. I love Uncle Kyle, he really makes me laugh, and I adore Grandma Debbie. She always takes me shopping whenever she makes the trip up to Orlando. Ashlyn's grandma is the sweetest woman alive and she is one of the best things about Florida. I really, truly feel lucky.

Things, however, have been a little strained since mom and Ashlyn broke up. But Ashlyn makes a point to have a date with me once a week. She'll pick me up from school and we will either go surfing out at Satellite Beach or go to a café and talk. Today, she is picking me up and we are going to try a new coffee place in downtown Orlando. AND, yes, I drink coffee. How could I not? I am Ali's kid.

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................  
"How's your grades this week?," Ashlyn balances our coffees as we get comfortable on one of the cafe's oversized sofas.

"Eh." I shrug. "I got a 70 on my science test. Mr. Jewel said I can retake it in a few days." All my teachers know what happened four years ago so they often give me breaks.

"Need me to help you with anything?" Ashlyn says then scrunches up her nose slightly. "And what the hell name is 'Jewell'?"

"All the kids call him Mr.Tool," I giggle. "But since you offered to help, I might need you to help me with history. We are learning all the Civil War battles and it's a lot."

"I got your back, girl." Ashlyn slips an arm around my shoulder. "You doing, alright otherwise?"

I nod. I don't want to complain too much because I know both Ashlyn and Ali are sad right now. I just don't want to add to their stress.

"You don't have to put on a brave face for me, Em." Ashlyn squeezes my shoulder. "We are all hurting right now and it's okay to talk about things."

"I know." I wince slightly. "But I feel selfish if I complain. I know you guys are really sad. Mom cries herself to sleep every night. She doesn't think I hear her but she does."

"Really?" This surprises her.

"She does." I pause for a moment. Should I ask her whether there is a chance they'll get back together?"

"I miss her too." Ashlyn says softly as she removes her arm from around my shoulder. She absently picks up her coffee. I can tell she wants to say something but in the end she doesn't.

"Hey, you ever need me, I am here for you," I try to say as cheerfully as possible.

"You are the best kid ever, seriously." She nudges my shoulder with her own. "What do you think about doing a small surf trip on Friday?"

We talk a little more about surfing before a man lingering outside the coffee shop catches my eye. He's well-dressed, carrying a computer bag, and staring directly at us through a window. My coffee suddenly drops to the floor but I can't look away.

"Em?" Ashlyn says.

He catches me staring and quickly moves on.

"Em?" Ashlyn says again as hot coffee puddles around my flip flops.

No words can come out of my mouth. It feels like my throat is closing shut.

"Em, you okay?" Ashlyn gently shakes my arm.

"Uh...." I stammer.

"Here, let me go get some napkins." She quickly gets up as I sit frozen to my seat.

Even though my feet are soaked with coffee I can't look away from the window.

"Babe, you look like you've seen a ghost," Ashlyn kneels next to me. "You okay?"

A ghost is exactly what I think I've seen.

..................................................................................................................................................................................................Later that evening, Mom and I sit down for dinner. She has made my favorite-spaghetti with meatballs-but my stomach is all twisted in knots. I can barely even look at my plate.

"Em?," She finally says. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nod my head enthusiastically."I'm just tired for some reason."

"Usually you're on to your second plate by now," She raises her eyebrows, a sign that she doesn't believe me.

"I know," I split a meatball in half in an attempt to make it look like I am trying to eat.

"How was your coffee with Ashlyn?," she says casually.

"Um....it was fine." I assure her, splitting the meatball again into fourths. "We're going surfing this weekend."

Her face falls slightly. On off-season weekends, we often went to the beach for family surfing. Well....it was mostly just Ashlyn trying to show me how to surf. Mom, who loves the sun, would primarily lay on a towel close to the water, watching us in amusement (I wiped out a lot). Afterwards, we would all go to Da Kine Diegos Insane Burritos for tacos.

"Did she say anything that got you upset?," Mom asks gently, her eyes searching my face for clues.

I do my best to keep a grip on my fork. She always has a way of getting things out of me. And there is no way....absolutely no way....I can tell her what I saw outside of the coffee shop. She would think I am having some sort of mental breakdown and put me back into therapy. And I HATE therapy. They always say annoying things like, "Let's expand on that feeling."

"Em?," Mom quietly probes again.

I am left no choice but to start gagging, pretending that I am going to throw up. It's really not much of a stretch for me because I do really feel like I am going to throw up.

"Oh Emma!," Mom scrambles out of her chair, throwing a salad bowl under my chin, "Let's get you to the bathroom."

A half hour later, I am in my darkened room, watching shadows from outside trees dance around my wall. Unable to close my eyes, I reach over to my phone, dial William's number. He picks up after the second ring.

"Hey kid!," he answers cheerfully. "You are a welcome break. I am still at the office with no hope of seeing my apartment tonight."

"Hey....," I try to keep my voice light.

"What's wrong?," he says immediately. He knows me just as well as Mom.

"William, if I ask you something, I need you to swear that you won't say anything to mom or Ashlyn or Jane," I say feebly. "O-kay," he says slowly. "But if you are doing something stupid like smoking pot or drinking, you know I am going to have to say something."

"No it's nothing like that." I am almost offended by this. The kids that do pot and a lot of drinking are absolutely useless at my school. They either just sit there, starting at the dry eraser board, or sleep while sitting up.

"Alright......." he pauses again. "You're not pregnant are you?"

"No!" I practically scream into the phone before realizing that this might send Mom flying into the room. I consequently lower my voice into a whisper."I don't even have a boyfriend."

"Okay," the relief in his voice is palpable. "Then what is it, Em?"

"Did you ever see dad's body when it came home from China?" I blurt out.

Dead silence on the phone.

"William?, " I finally say after a minute has passed.

"Em, why are you asking this?," William's voice waivers slightly. I don't have to be there to know that he is sitting at this desk in D.C., contemplating whether he should hang up right now and call either Ashlyn or mom.

"I just need to know," I completely skirt around the question.

"No," he finally says. "Mom insisted on it being a closed casket so neither Jane nor I got to see him. Em, are you okay? This is a really weird question for you to be asking."

"I'm fine." I lie. "I just have been thinking about him lately is all."

"Em, I am always here for you," he begins, "But I am like 700 miles away and can't do much. I really think you need to talk to Ali or Ashlyn about all of this. Whatever you're thinking about, they will listen and help you."

"It was just a question, William, nothing more," I find the strength to speak firmly, even though my hands are trembling.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just promise me that you won't say anything."

He pauses.

"William? You told me you wouldn't say anything unless it was drugs or drinking."

"Okay, okay," his voice still sounds uncertain. "I love you, kid. And if you can't talk to Ali or Ashlyn, make sure you call me. I will be on the next plane if I have to."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you."

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................

_"You're so stupid, Emma!," he screams. "Why are you always doing stupid things?!"_

_With my teddy bear hugged close to my chest, I dive under the coffee table, thinking I'm safe there._

_"Leaving the toothpaste cap off is unacceptable, Emma! Unacceptable!" he screams. "You're six years old, you're old enough to know better!" He leans down, pulls me out from under the table, in doing so, my head smacks on the corner._

_" I'm sorry, daddy!" I sob, rubbing my head._

_"You're never sorry!," his hand comes across my face and I feel it sting._

_"Please stop, I won't...I won't do it again!"_

_"You're damn right you'll never do it again," he grabs me then...._

"Nooooooooooo!," I scream, sitting upright in bed. 

Seconds later, my bedroom light goes on, Mom comes flying in. 

"Shhhhhhhhhh....it's okay....it's okay," I feel her arms wrap around me like they have done many times before.

"I'm sorry," I burst into tears while blinking at the brightness of the lights. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she gently takes my head and pulls it to her chest, gently rocking me against her. "It was just a dream, love. You're safe."

Her holding me after a bad dream has always made me feel safe but tonight felt different.  I didn't feel safe. At all. I felt like someone was outside our house, watching me, just like the man outside the coffee shop. 

"Mom......" I say suddenly, pulling away slightly. "Can we go away this weekend?"

"Love, what's going on?," her arms settle around me as she looks at my face imploringly . "I know you didn't feel well at dinner but is there something else going on? You've acted weird the second you walked through the door tonight. Is it about Ashlyn and I?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.  _Maybe I should tell her?_ _No. No, I can't do that. I didn't even tell William what I saw outside the coffee shop today and HE STILL thought I acted like a complete weirdo._

"Talk to me, Em," Mom gently squeezes my shoulder. "We can go away if you want but I need you to tell me what's going on first. Is there something going on at school?" Her right hand gently reaches out to stroke my sweaty hair.

Suddenly, I find myself lying like I did so many times in the past, when I was covering for my dad,"I've just been missing William, Jane and my friends too much. I....mean....I mean....I like it down here but I really miss everyone back there." I've lied so much in the past that I remember to look into her eyes for emphasis. 

"Oh, love, I'm so so sorry. The last few months haven't been easy," she kisses the top of my head. "Of course we can go up to D.C. for the weekend if you want." 

"Okay." I move closer into her, relieved that she bought my lie. We sit in silence until I finally say, "Mom?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?" The thought of her going back to her room sends my stomach into a panic. 

"Of course, I will," she murmurs slightly, leaning over to flip off the light. 

Light turned off, she wraps her arms back around me. She falls asleep almost immediately but I lay awake in the dark,unable to shake the feeling that someone nearby is watching us.


	8. Orlando Pride Meets Amanda

Ali drives to practice in silence. Normally she listens to music on the way in but this morning she needed to think. Emma, who tossed and turned in her arms all night, seemed legitimately scared of something. Even this morning she wasn't herself. Maybe something happened yesterday? Maybe she needed to talk to Ashlyn to see if anything happened on yesterday's coffee date? Things are obviously not great between them but Ashlyn loves Emma just as much as Ali does. If there was something going on with Emma, Ali knows Ashlyn would step in and help.  


Alex pulls up to practice at the same time as Ali so the pair of them amble towards the team’s breakfast.

"Ashlyn texted me that Kay was here today," Alex offers as they walk. 

"Really? Do you know why?"

"Nope," Alex tosses her bag over her shoulder. 

"Maybe we're getting someone new?" Ali suggests. Kay normally gets involved when there is some major news with the club-new player, trade, retirement etc.

"Maybe?,” Alex shrugs as they approach the breakfast table. 

Ali immediately notices that Kay, Coach Tom, and a woman in a brightly colored shift dress are chatting away from the group. 

"Who's that?" Ali nods over to the woman.

"No idea. Maybe a new intern?," Alex plops down at unto a seat.

As Ali sits down, she catches Ashlyn's eye at the opposite end of the table. Ali maintains eye contact but Ashlyn quickly looks away. Ali's heart sinks. Maybe the conversation about Emma should wait? 

"Alright, ladies!," Kay walks over to them with Tom and the woman in tow. "Before you get yourselves situated with breakfast, I want to introduce you to someone who will be helping out our team this season. This is Amanda Müller. She's from Charleston South Carolina and has just completed her certification in Life Coaching. She will be doing a life coaching internship here with us for the next few months."

All the players look at each other as if to say, "What the hell is this?" 

"Hi y'all!," Amanda steps forward, smiling brightly. To Ali she looks very Southern-highlighted light brown hair, lots of make-up, bright ballet flats, matching accessories. "I know what y'all are thinking....'What the hell is a life coach?'.....trust me I thought the same thing when I first heard it."

Some players smile, others remain confused.

"Life coaching is not as hokey as it sounds," Amanda continues with a smile. "As players you face a lot of challenges that most people don't face. One, you're in a sport that requires you to work twice as hard as men. Two, you have pressures to keep your personal and public life separate. Three, you have pressures to perform your best every day." 

A few players, including Ali, inwardly groan. 

"For you, life coaching can be a tool for many things. It can help you organize your life priorities better....or to help you work through struggles on the field...... or to work through problems in your personal life.”

Ali glances over at Ashlyn. As she had suspected, Ashlyn wasn’t buying into any of this either. In fact, she was whispering and giggling to the person next to her. 

“Everything that you say to me is held in confidence so I encourage you to set up some time to talk," Amanda throws a side glance at Ashlyn. Ashlyn blatantly rolls her eyes.

"I spoke with Amanda at length yesterday and I think she will be a great asset to you on and off the field," Kay interjects pointedly. “I know sometimes it’s hard to come to me or Coach Tom so Amanda could be another sounding board for you. 

"Thank you, Kay!", Amanda says brightly. "I know y’all need to get practice going so I'm going to join y’all for breakfast. But I am hoping to meet each and every one of y’all over the next few days."

"How many times can you use ‘y’all’ in a sentence?" Alex whispers to Ali as Amanda settles down into a seat.

"Right?" Ali nods her head in agreement. 

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Practice ends around noon. And as the girls are leaving the field, Ali makes the spontaneous decision to approach Ashlyn. 

"Ash, can I talk to you?" Ali calls out. Even from a distance, she notices Ashlyn's shoulder muscles tighten. For a moment, Ali wonders if she is even going to turn around. Ashlyn takes several more steps then suddenly stops. Ali then takes this opportunity to run up to her. 

"What's up?" Ashlyn's voice is casual but wavering.

"Emma had a night terror last night." Ali gets straight to the point. "We both know she's had a lot of them but this one was different. She acted legitimately scared of something. It was almost like when we first met her. Remember? She was always so skittish and secretive. That's how she acted last night."

Ashlyn turns to face Ali. "So I thought about calling you last night but I wasn't sure if I should."

Ali sucks in a deep breath. "Okay?"

"We had coffee at our normal spot but as we are sitting there talking, Emma suddenly drops her coffee," Ashlyn's brown eyes cloud over slightly. "Even though the coffee was burning her feet she just sat there, looking out at the window."

Ali thinks for a moment. "Did she say she saw something weird?"

"No," Ashlyn shakes her head. "But it looked like she had seen a ghost or something." 

"Huh." Dropping hot coffee wasn't enough to warrant a night terror. Maybe the stress of the last few months WAS really catching up and Emma did need the promised trip to D.C. 

"Can I do anything?" Ashlyn looks at her with sincerity. 

"Um....." Ali stammers. "I think she is stressed out…you know….because of everything…. so….. I think I am going to take her to D.C. this weekend to see William and Jane."

"That's probably a good idea. She would love that." There is a flicker of hurt in Ashlyn's eyes. "Well….. I’m gonna go. The waves are looking pretty good today so I'm heading to the beach."

"Be careful." The words are out of Ali's mouth before she can stop them. It was something that she always said to Ash whenever she went surfing. 

Ash is clearly surprised by this. "Thanks. See you tomorrow." Before Ali can determine whether it's a good or bad surprise, Ashlyn walks away. 

“Shit.” Ali mutters as she walks towards her car. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she notices Amanda a few cars down, frantically fumbling through her purse. 

Ali’s first instinct is to ignore her-primarily out of fear that she is going to be sucked into a life coaching session-then her conscience gets the better of her. The poor girl DID just move to Orlando. The least she could do is be nice. 

“You okay?,” Ali finally calls out. 

Amanda doesn’t hear her so Ali calls out again. 

"Oh Lord this is embarrassing," Amanda looks sheepishly up from her purse. "I can't seem to find my car keys." 

"I can help you. Let me just put my bag in the trunk." 

Ali and Amanda wind up looking everywhere-the parking lot, the field, the breakfast area- all to no avail. 

"I feel so stupid," Amanda laments as they return to her car. "I had them at practice for sure."

“Do you have a spare?”

“I do….back at the hotel.” Amanda runs a hand through her perfect hair. “I suppose I can just grab an Uber. The hotel isn’t too far away.”

“No, don’t do that.” Ali bristles. “I am happy to take you.”

Amanda looks surprised. “Really? You would do that? That is so sweet of you!”

“Yeah, no problem!,” Ali smiles. 

“I’ll tell y’all what…..for being so kind….can I please buy y’all lunch? There is a cute little cafe not too far from my hotel,” Amanda suggests.

Ali thinks for a moment. Amanda seems very sweet but AGAIN, she didn’t want to be caught up in some life-coaching trap. Her life was complicated enough and the last thing she needed was another person telling her what she should be doing.  
“No life coaching, I promise! Just lunch.” Amanda adds quickly. 

Ali laughs. “Okay, sure.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“Wow, I can’t believe I have never been here before.” Ali sets down her ice water as she glances around. “It’s really cute.” The café that Amanda has brought her to-The Ace Café-is a cute enclave tucked in the middle of downtown. Ali has eaten at a lot of places downtown but this café seemed to have escaped her food radar.

“I came here last night too. The buffalo empanadas are to die for by the way.” Amanda pulls a bright turquoise cardigan out of her bag. ”The thing about livin’ in the South is that you swelter outside and freeze inside.”

“Right?,” Ali laughs. “So….you’re from Charleston?”

“Well originally I am from a small town called Newberry but my husband is in the Marine Corp so we moved to Charleston a few years ago,” Amanda pulls the sweater over her shoulder. “Newberry doesn’t even have a stop light so Charleston was an adjustment.”

“I can imagine. Do you like it there?”

“It’s okay,” Amanda smiles slightly. “He wasn’t supposed to deploy with his orders because it’s a trainin’ base but he got called back to his old Special Forces unit out of Fort Lejeune. He’s been deployed for almost nine months now.”

“That must be hard,” Ali says sympathetically. “How often do you have to move?’

“Usually every few years.” Amanda shrugs. “But while he is deployed, I have a routine. I go to the gym every day, I am in a writing club, and I’m starting my life coaching business. It keeps me busy. And when I’m feeling lonely, I go out to my parents in Newberry. About 24 hours in, my momma starts asking questions like when Wes and I are going to give her grandbabies…..then I don’t feel so lonely anymore.” 

Ali laughs. 

“What about you? Where are you from,?” Amanda takes a quick sip of her sweet tea. 

“Grew up in Northern Virginia but have been kind of all over the place since.” Ali fiddles with her straw. “I went to play in Germany for a while then Sweden then I came back to the States to play in D.C.”

“Wow! Germany?!” Amanda’s eyes grow big. “I have barely been out of South Carolina!”

“Yeah, it was fun.” Ali blushes slightly. She wasn’t really one to brag about her accolades. 

“Do you like it here?”

Ali hesitates some. “Yeah, I do. But I miss the D.C. area and my daughter, Emma, misses D.C. Too. She’s too sweet to ever tell me but I know she does. 

“You have a daughter?”

“I do.” Ali is reluctant to share more so she changes the subject. “So, when do you and Wes plan to have kids?”  
Their conversation, to both of their pleasant surprise, continues into late afternoon. Before Ali realizes it, it is 3:30 and almost time for Emma to come home.

“Oh crap!” Ali looks at her watch. “I gotta go! Emma gets out of school at 4.”

“Oh gosh!,” Amanda grabs her purse off the table. “Don’t worry about takin’ me back to the hotel. It’s a nice walk from here and I need to walk off lunch!”

“Are you sure?” Ali jumps out of her seat. 

“Of course!,” Amanda follows suit. 

“Amanda, this was such a great afternoon!” Ali, who is not really a hugger, impulsively pulls her into a hug.

Amanda squeezes her back. “Agreed! Let’s do it again soon!”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
A block down from the café, Mike pulls up on his bike. From where he is at, he can clearly see Amanda walk out of the café with Ali. He waits until both women are gone before pulling out his cellphone. 

“Hey Mike.” Scott answers immediately. 

“Hey,” Mike says quietly. “Our girl is in.”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  


AMANDA'S POV 

I peel off the obnoxious shift dress the moment I get back to the hotel. How country club Southern Belles wear this kind of shit every day is beyond me. I have felt like a freaking pastel frosted cupcake all day. 

Once I am in my signature outfit-gym shorts and a Nike t-shirt-I check in with Langley. 

“What’s the word Big Bird?” Scott greets me pleasantly. 

“Big bird? Really?”

“What’s the scoop, Coop?

“Stop…..stop this right now,” I, despite myself, laugh. 

“Fair enough. How did it go today?”

“I made contact with Ali. We had lunch….a very long lunch….and made plans for next week. I tried to get something going for this weekend but she’s taking her daughter, Emma, to D.C. this weekend.”

“Wait, what?” Scott’s entire tone changes. 

“She’s taking Emma to D.C.,” I repeat then pause. “Why? Is this a problem?”

“Yeah, big problem.” Scott says sharply. “Under no circumstances is she or Emma to step foot in D.C. right now.”

“Why?”

“Need to know basis, kid. You’re going to have to create some sort of diversion.”

“Um, I just met her a few hours ago. What kind of diversion am I supposed to create?”

“You graduated at the top of your class at William and Mary. You’ll figure it out. Gotta run.”

The phone goes dead. 

“I hate my job sometimes,” I dramatically flop on my bed like a girl I would typically mock.


	9. The Lawyer in Georgetown

The lawyer and the elderly man meet for a late lunch at Boulangerie Christophe-a French café in Georgetown.

"You look lovely," the man greets her with a customary kiss on the cheek, not a kiss on both cheeks like one would do in the old country. 

"America is softening you," she jests as she settles into a remote table on the restaurant's empty back patio. "Twenty years ago you would have never said that to a woman."

"Maybe so." He smiles slightly. A handsome man with light blue eyes, he looks far younger than his 80 years and every bit the stereotypical investment banker he used to be. 

"It's sweltering today. Perhaps we should have chosen inside," she shuffles out of her suit jacket. "I hate being hot."

"It is indeed," he murmurs, picking up the menu. "Now, what is it that I always order?"

"The Salade de Poulpes," she offers.

"Ah that's right." He quickly shuts his menu. 

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes. Sabine, the waitress that normally waits on them, comes out to take their order. Shortly thereafter, he begins the conversation that she had been anxious about for a few days.

"Spoke with everyone today," he says casually, with a smile. He never really knew who was nearby watching. 

"And?" her heart begins to race. 

"He's disappeared completely." 

"Shit."

"Indeed," he casually throws a leg over his other leg. "But there is good news....our items have been...safely relocated."

"Good." 

He nods then pauses. "But we now have a bigger problem aside from our short term plans being nulled."

"What?" She's afraid to know but in the same breath needs to know. Her entire future hangs on this last task that she had been given.

"Three sources have confirmed that an old friend has suddenly reappeared from the dead."

"What friend?," she looks at him in slight confusion. There are a dozen 'friends' that he could be referring to.

"Ian."

Her face turns sheer white and for a moment she can't even speak. 

"Daddy, that's impossible."

"No, dear, I think the sources are correct."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter humanizes Amanda. Initially, I think, readers dislike Amanda because they think she is splitting Ashlyn and Ali apart more. I think they also dislike the way she is taking advantage of Ali's good heart. But hopefully by the end of it, you will understand her a little better.

p>EMMA's POV

Friday morning rolls around and I am very tired. Last night, like the last few nights, I have woken up in a panic, yelling random things into the dark. Mom keeps asking me what is wrong but I can't put my finger on it. I just don't feel safe in my room at night.

"Hey babe," Mom, who looks just as tired as I do, hands me a glass of orange juice.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I say quietly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

She reaches over the counter and brushes a chunk of hair away from my face, “Babe....I think the last few months have been too stressful and I think you need a break. Our flight leaves at three so I'm going to pull you out of school around noon? Maybe will go grab lunch before the airport?"

I nod, setting the untouched glass on the counter.

"Honey, you got to have something in your stomach," she says gently. "Want me to make you a piece of toast?"

I don't want anything but nod anyway.

"Hey........," she suddenly says, “You and me....we're going to be okay.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
AMANDA's POV

7:30 and the Florida humidity has already kicked in. My hair, which has a mind of its own, is drenched in so many products that I half-expect it stay permanently in place for the next week. But God only knows that a good Southern girl would NEVER dream of leaving the house with frizzy hair.

As I slip on my Lily Pulitzer skirt-also a Southern staple-my phone rings.

"Yeah," I grab it on the second ring.

"Diversion set up," Julie, my mission manager, gets straight to the point. "You're to stay the entire practice with the excuse that you want to get a better feel for what they do on the field. After practice, which you have told us ends around 11:00, you make sure that you’re within close proximity of Ali. Your phone will ring and you'll need to pick it up."

"Okay," I say slowly. "Anything more that you can tell me?"

"No," Julie says briskly. "If the practice runs late, text my normal cell phone, "I'm running late, I will see you in a few". When the practice ends then text, “On my way."

"Got it."

"Good. Talk to you later," Julie then pauses, "Incidentally, I hear you're really enjoying the clothes that Melissa picked out for you." Melissa is a disguise specialist. Her job is to pull together cover kits that in the past have included crazy things like stage make-up, wigs, intricate facial masks that turned me into a 70-year-old man, prosthetics, and facial moles. Her objective is to keep my cover kit simple but deter away from my real features. For my current cover, I needed a kit that would uphold my Southern Bell image. Within a few hours of me getting the assignment, she quickly pieced together three Kate Spade luggage bags filled with crap that I would never wear- Lily Pulitzer , Simply Southern, Vineyard Vines, Easter egg colored cardigans, monogrammed V-necks, pearl stud earrings, three different types of pearl necklaces, oversized sunglasses, 10 pairs of shoes ranging from ballet flats to kitten heels,

"Yeah, you can have them when I get back," I retort. "I look like a fucking frosted cupcake."

Julie laughs, “I’d like to see that. Oh! And Melissa told me to tell you that it’s about $5,000 worth of clothing that needs to come back in one piece. "

"Yeah, don't worry about that, I don’t plan on going mudding in them," I scoff, "Catch you later."

I throw my phone into a Kate Spade bag-a pale pink ditty with a huge ass bow in the front-and take one last look in the mirror. Smooth hair? Check. Pastel ballet flats? Check. Obnoxious floral skirt? Check. Pearl necklace? Check. Pearl earrings? Check. Three layers of makeup complete with frosty pink lips? Check.

"Damn I'm good," I say into the mirror.

......................................................................................................................................................................................................  
ALI

Tom wraps up practice around 11. Ali glances down at her watch as she makes her way to a side bench holding her soccer bag. She will have just enough time to shower before she gets on the road.

"Hi!," Amanda says cheerfully from her spot on the bench, shutting a colorful floral notebook. “I’ve been takin’ notes all mornin’! Gosh, soccer is no joke!”

"Hey!," Ali smiles. Some of the girls were still a little leery of Amanda-particularly weary of her occupation-but Ali found her to be very sweet. A little too perky but sweet.

"Headed to D.C.?”

"Yeah," Ali wipes the back of her sopping neck with a towel. One thing that she is not going to miss come September is Florida's intense humidity. "I'm going to take a quick shower then pick up Emma from school."

"That's great!," Amanda says as she throws her cellphone and notebook into her purse. "I'm glad you and Emma are takin' this break."

Ashlyn, who is putting her own stuff in a nearby bag, overhears this. She throws her gloves in quickly then walks away. This does not go unnoticed by Amanda. She had heard through the grapevine that they had recently broken up and that things had been a little tense between them.

"Kriegs, are you seriously bailing out this weekend?," Syd, also sweating profusely, grabs a towel out of her bag.

"Yeah.....Emma really needs this," Ali says carefully. Although she liked Amanda, she wasn't keen on divulging too much of Emma's story. The way she sees it, Emma worked hard to get normalcy into her life and the least Ali could do was protect this normalcy. There was really no need to dredge up Emma’s history with people she didn’t know very well.

"Got it," Sydney glances knowingly at Amanda. "So, life coach girl, how's your first week going?" Although Sydney found Amanda to be very nice, the Southern drawl grinded on her nerves a bit.

"Oh, it's great!," Amanda gushes. "I am even thinking about takin’ myself to DisneyWorld this weekend! I've never been!"

"Right on," Sydney flashes an amused smile. She could see Amanda running around DisneyWorld- sparkly Minnie Mouse ears perched on her head-twirling in a cute sundress alongside Daisy Duck.

"Have y'all been? What's your favorite...." Amanda's voice trails off as her phone begins to ring. She digs it out of her purse, looks at it for a second, then says aloud, "This number has called twice this mornin' so I s'uppose I should pick up....so sorry..... I don't mean to be rude!"

“Think it’s the Junior League asking her whether the summer gala should use white or cream napkins?” Sydney whispers as Amanda walks away with the phone to her ear.

Ali laughs despite herself. “Be nice!”

"I'm not sure I understand," Ali and Sydney suddenly overhear her say. "There are two Marines in the hotel lobby lookin for me?"

"Oh shit.....," Ali mutters, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"What?" Syd asks.

Ali shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

"Um....yes......I can come immediately." Although Amanda's back is to them, Ali can hear the quiver in her voice.

"What the hell is going on?," Syd asks again.

"Her husband is a Marine," Ali whispers. "And he's overseas right now."

"Oh my god," Sydney's eyes widen. "Do you think something has happened to him?"

Ali shakes her head in uncertainty.

“Okay…okay….I’m coming now,” Amanda, phone still in hand, fresh tears spilling down her face, rushes over to where her bag is.

"Amanda?," Ali says gently. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t look at Ali, doesn’t look at Sydney, doesn’t even utter a word, instead she scoops up her purse and starts running down the field.

"Amanda!" Ali takes off running behind her, Sydney does the same, but Amanda is surprisingly agile. By the time they catch up with her, she is in the driver seat of her VW bug, starting the engine. Her hands are palpably shaking on the steering wheel and her face is wet with tears.

" Amanda, don't drive upset!," Ali yells through the driver's side glass. "Please don't drive like this!"

Amanda lets out a small sob, which is Ali's cue to open the car door.

"Slide over, let me drive," Ali pleads.

"I'm getting in too!" Sydney runs over to the passenger side and hops in.

"Whatever this is....we're here to help you," Ali continues, bending down so that she is eye level with Amanda. "I know you don't know us well but we're here. So I need you to slide over to the passenger seat and let us take you to where you need to go. Okay?,"

Amanda wipes her face with the back of her hand. "Okay," she finally whispers.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
A few hours later, Ali returns home with Amanda in tow.

“Can I make you anything to eat?,” Ali sits down next to Amanda on the couch. “I make a great canned tomato soup.” It’s her attempt at a light joke but Amanda is seemingly oblivious to it.

Ali puts a hand on Amanda’s knee, not knowing exactly what to do The entire afternoon was a messy whirlwind. Upon arriving at the hotel, they were greeted by two Marines, the hotel’s general manager, and the front desk clerk who had called Amanda. The Marines apparently had shown up at the hotel because Amanda is listed as Wes’ next of kin and the hotel is listed as Amanda’s temporary residence. When Amanda didn’t answer the door to her room, they asked the front desk if they had a good number to reach her. The desk clerk then used the cellphone that Amanda had put on file to track her down-hence the call she got on the soccer field.

The general manger, sensitive to the situation, ushered them into a room that is normally utilized for staff meetings. He thought it would be more private than a ballroom. Once he left, the two Marines proceeded to tell Amanda that Wes is missing in action, presumed dead. They couldn’t reveal what mission he was on as they would be putting the other members of his team at risk, especially if she talked to the media. They did, however, assure her that they would be with her every step of the way and that they would call her with any updates. They also offered to send a Navy chaplain from Jacksonville to sit with her if she wanted clergy. She declined. In fact, she repeatedly insisted on driving home to South Carolina to her parents’. Both Sydney and Ali finally convinced her that driving under the circumstances was a horrible idea. .

Ali also didn't want to leave her in a hotel room by herself so she cajoled Amanda into coming home with her. How could she not? The poor girl was in a new city with no family or friends to stay with her.

“Thank you but I’m not hungry right now,” Amanda finally says, her light blue eyes swimming with tears.

"Okay," Ali says softly. "Is there anyone that I can call? Do your parents know?"

Amanda shakes her head. "I don't want to call them yet. Maybe they will find him soon? Maybe they made a mistake? In the field, they are all dressed alike so maybe they got the wrong person? Maybe he's hiding somewhere and got lost from his team? Maybe.....," her voice trails off.

"I hope you're right," Ali murmurs, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “In the meantime, Sydney and I will be here for you this whole weekend, 'kay? She has to stay with Cassius until Dom gets home but she will be over a little later. We won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

Amanda nods gratefully.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Several miles away, at the Orlando airport, Mike gets on a 16:00 plane to Washington D.C. Silver wig covering his dark hair and glasses perched on his nose, he looks every bit the Georgetown adjunct professor he was supposed to be. Carrying a tattered book bag on his shoulder, he shuffles past Ashlyn Harris and Emma. Engaged in conversation, neither girl even notices him.

“Hi! Got on my flight okay. See you soon,” he texts shortly after he settles into a seat behind them.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. Scott sees Mike’s text and practically slams down the phone in frustration. The diversion had been going exactly as planned-Amanda and Julie's call on the soccer field couldn't have been better timed, the Marines at the hotel (2 Florida based CIA field officers), did exactly what they were supposed to do, Ali did what they had all hoped she would do by cancelling D.C. trip.

And then Ali decided to send Emma to D.C. with Ashlyn.

Around 14:00, Scott received a text from Mike, stating that Emma was leaving Ali's house with a small carry-on luggage. Initially they hoped that it was as simple as Emma staying at Ashlyn's for the night but a quick sweep of the flights leaving Orlando showed them booked on a 16:00 American Airline flight to D.C. National.

"Do you have anything for a disguise?," Scott had asked Mike.

"Negative. I have been CONUS for 72 hours. I just brought the necessities."

"Find a disguise and get to the airport. This weekend has fucking disaster written all over it so we're going to need you on their tail the ENTIRE time. If Ashlyn takes a shit at McDonald's, I want you in the stall next to her. Got it?"

"Got it."

....................................................................................................................................................................................................... AMANDA's POV 

Around midnight I find myself unable to sleep. Slipping carefully out of Emma’s bed, I let the moonlight guide me to my suitcase lying in the corner of the room. Tucked away in a side pouch is my favorite picture of Zach. It’s against CIA protocol to carry sentimental things like this-things from real life that could potentially blow a cover-but I carry it with me regardless.

I pull it out and run my fingers over it. It has started to fade but it doesn’t matter because I have everything in this picture memorized-Zach’s dimple in his right cheek, the dark curls at the bottom of his neck, the blueness of his eyes, the very light spattering of freckles across his nose, the easy way he smiled into the camera. It was taken his senior year, my sophomore year, of high school.

It was also the same year that our small town football team had qualified for the state championship and the year that we had begun dating-something that no one had anticipated. We had been neighbors our entire lives but had always blatantly hated one another. He called me names like,"I am a MAN da" in the school halls whereas I warned every girl who wanted to date him, that he played air guitar in his tighty whities –WITH his bedroom curtains open.

Six months prior to this picture, my dad had been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. He had never smoked a day in his life but doctors chalked it up to one of those rare things. By fall, hospice had come in to administer palliative care. My mom, who had been a suburban housewife her entire life, was barely functioning. My big sister, Piper, tried to mother everyone. My big brother, Caden, was angry. My little sisters, Haley, and Janey, were incredibly confused. I, myself, tried to appease everyone.

O _ne afternoon in September, I had found myself sitting in the bleachers of my high school, unmoving. Soccer practice had been over for an hour but I couldn’t bring myself to go home. Dad was sleeping almost 22 hours a day. Hospice had warned us that it wouldn’t be much longer. Mom was so scared that she wouldn’t even leave his side to go to the bathroom. She literally had one of the hospice nurses bring her a toilet they normally used for bedridden patients. Piper was cooking, cleaning, and bossing everyone around non-stop. Caden had been caught smoking pot with friends but police had given him just a warning because they knew our circumstances. Haley and Janey were sleeping in my bed every night-a twin bed no less-and I hadn’t slept in nearly a week._

_“Hey,” Zach appeared out of nowhere. “Can I sit down?”_

_“I guess.” I wanted him to be there but also had the strange feeling of not wanting him to go._

_“I know nothing I say is going to make this better,” he had said. “So I’m just gonna sit here with you.”_

_And he did. From that point on, Zach made it a point to sit with me-at my dad’s wake, at my dad’s funeral, at the burial, at the reception. He never said much, he just sat with me. And when I did finally break down, he held me for the longest time._

_“Are you in love with Zach?,” a close friend asked after several months of Zach and I hanging out._

_“I think I am.”_

_“He’s a nice guy and all but don’t stay with him,” my friend warned. “ He’s going to play football at UVA in the fall, Manda. All those pretty cheerleaders and sorority girls will be all over him! He might be good for a few months but you know how guys are. You had better end this now.”_

Turns out she was wrong. There was never any one else for either of us. Although I was accepted into my dream school-Wellesley-I chose the Russian and Post-Soviet Studies program at William and Mary to be closer to him. And then when he started his master’s program at U of Penn, I worked at the university book store just to have enough money to ride the bus to Pennsylvania every other weekend.

On Valentine’s Day in 2001, Zach surprised me with a weekend in New York City. He took me to a small family Italian restaurant in Little Italy where he proceeded to tell me that Cantor Fitzgerald had offered him a junior analyst position. He wasn’t set to graduate until May but they were willing to wait for him.

I was ecstatic for him.

_“Do you want to live in New York City, babe?,” he asks, his blue eyes visibly hopeful. “Because if this isn’t for you then I can find another job.”_

_“Of course I will live in New York! You have to take this job!”_

_“Good. That’s what I was hoping you would say,” he then proceeded to pull out an emerald cut diamond from his suit coat_.

From there, things fell into place. He started at Cantor in May and I started an internship at the U.N. in June. There wasn’t a whole lot of time to plan a wedding with our crazy schedules so we secretly eloped on a balmy August afternoon. We celebrated with cupcakes from Magnolia Cupcakes. The real wedding, we had decided, would be later in 2002.

We fell into a normal married couple routine and the day of September 11 was no different than any other day. Zach went into the office around 6:30 AM and I arrived at my internship by 8:30 AM.

_I had just started going over my assigned delegate’s schedule with their scheduler when someone screamed._

_“The Twin Towers are on fire!,” someone screamed._

Looking back, I realize that I hadn’t panicked until we were escorted out of the building and I saw the gigantic cloud of black smoke hanging above the City.

_“Zach…..Zach’s company is at the top of the first tower!,” I yelled out to no one in particular. Soot and black flakes were literally falling from the sky._

I shake the memory out of my mind as I carefully slip Zach’s picture back into the suitcase. The PTSD therapist who saw me the first year, cautioned that it was healthy to work through the memories of that day, but after this long, it was more painful than productive. With a careful hand, I reach deeper into the pocket and pull out an emerald cut ring. I bring it close to my chest and revert my thoughts back to today’s events. Zach was the reason why I joined the CIA. Every day I go into work, I feel like I am honoring him. And the CIA is well aware of it. Which is why they didn’t divulge much about the diversion plan. They knew that even though everything about today was going to be fake-Julie’s call, the Marine’s, Wes-my emotions were going to be real. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… ALI’s POV

Ali, accustomed to Emma’s night terrors, is a light sleeper, so when she hears soft crying coming from Emma’s room, she quickly goes to Amanda.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Ali quickly drops by her side. “It’s okay.”

Amanda opens her hand slightly, revealing a beautiful emerald cut diamond. “He proposed to me in New York City.”

Ali wordlessly reaches out to stroke her hair. "It's a beautiful ring."

“We were going to have a big family,” Amanda continues, wet tears dropping onto the floor.

“Honey, you still might have the chance,” Ali says hopefully. “Maybe they did make a mistake.”

“No,” Amanda looks firmly at Ali, her eyes mixed with vehemence and sadness. “He’s missing and they are never gonna find him.  People who go missing like this are never found. And we eventually stop looking for them. We have a funeral with no casket then put a grave marker on an empty piece of dirt."  

Ali, not knowing exactly what to say, wraps her arms around Amanda like she would Emma.  And just like Emma used to do, Amanda resists then finally crumbles against her. 


End file.
